A Holiday
by Kilrez
Summary: Parker goes on holiday, and for a very brief moment, Jarod relaxes. Then he unrelaxes, and starts running. Very fast... JMP, as always. finished
1. Taking Leave

So Much For a Holiday

For all those that asked so nicely for this sequel, here it is. For those that threatened, demanded, yellled, niggled or otherwise... :D... don't hurt me. Please?

This is a sequel to 'pretend squared.' There aren't to many overt references to that story, and this one pretty much stands alone, execpt, for later, when... well, you'll see.

(ps. Daisyz, why should Parker be following meekly after Jarod out of the Centre? Lets give her a bit more credit than that shall we)

* * *

'Daddy, I'm taking leave.' Miss Parker stated it as she swept into her father's office, long since having discovered that people unprepared for conversations gave ground more easily. 

'Angel. Good to see you.' Her father, however, never got to the point, buying himself time to think of ways to wheedle around her.

'I'm taking a holiday.' She re-stated, so he wouldn't be able to distract her with pleasantries.

'Is this about that Willard fellow Angel? He's dead now, there's no need to worry about him.'

_No, no need to worry. _Thought Parker grimly. _Thanks to him, you're chairman of the Centre, and Raines is safely in a state jail._

'I know Daddy, but its not about him. I've had about five days off since I first started chasing Jarod, and two weeks without me on the pursuit team won't make a difference to the final outcome.'

Mr. Parker smiled disarmingly, looking like a harmless old man, and raised both hands in a gesture of mock defeat. 'Whatever you say Angel. I never could refuse my beautiful daughter anything.'

'Thankyou Daddy. I'll be gone from tomorrow.' She swept out, not letting him add any conditions on to her brief freedom. As she descended into the sub levels to tell Sydney and Broots, there was a smile on her face not unlike the one that hones in on swimmers, cutting smoothly through the water. A path cleared miraculously for her, even in the busiest corridors.

**oo00OO00oo**

Jarod eyed his mobile phone warily. It was ringing. He had bought it yesterday, and it was ringing. It just wasn't possible that anyone had the number.

He stared dumbly at it in indecision for another two rings, then curiosity, ever his weakness, overcame him. He reached out one hand, answered the call, and held the phone to his ear. Surprise and amusement battled for control of his feelings when he heard the voice on the end of the line.

'Did you know that some tribes in the Kalahari Desert, rather than setting the whole tribe out to try to flush out and bring down prey, will just set one hunter on it, and follow it until it collapses from exhaustion?'

'Definitely more efficient than the other way of hunting… if the single hunter has the endurance and the skills to keep up with the prey. Sometimes it could take days.' He admired how well she had emulated his style of phone greeting, but purposely avoided falling into her standard mode of reply.

'It's amazing the things you learn when you've got a bit of time to yourself. I finally found the space to just sit down and flick through the TV channels.'

'Ah yes. This would be about the two week vacation that you demanded from your father yesterday.'

'OK, I'll tell you how I found your phone number if you tell me how you knew that.'

'I'll can find out myself. Happy hunting.' Jarod hung up on her, amusement having won. She was good, and he sometimes didn't give her enough credit for that. Little reminders like this actually helped him to keep on his toes.

Smiling, he stood and moved around his hotel room, gathering his things, and trying to ignore the tiny nagging doubt in the pit of his stomach, warning him like a splinter of foresight, wedged into the security of the present.

**oo00OO00oo**

'Mr Broots, I would like you to keep a track of my daughter. Just to make sure she is safe. Nothing too invasive, but keep me up to date on where she is.'

'Yes Mr Parker.' Gulped Broots to the back that had already turned to leave the room. It was taken for granted that he would acquiesce with the request, no further contact was required. That didn't mean he wasn't suddenly wracked with conflict.

It was his job and the safety of him and his daughter if he did not track Miss Parker whilst she was supposed to be on holiday. On the other hand, if he tracked her, and she found out, it was his balls, and then his tongue and then his life, but at least Debbie would be safe.

Broots contemplated. But he had never… well… not without some serious pressure from a more immediate authority (ie. Miss Parker, breathing down his neck)… disobeyed a direct order from the chairman. And without Miss Parker here to protect him now, he had very little choice. She would understand. At least, he hoped so.

He leant forward over his keyboard and began to tap away, just to see how far back he could stay from her whilst still keeping Mr Parker happy. Hopefully all it would involve would be some photos of her house from satellite, to prove that she was still around the place, and not in South Africa, meeting with the Triumvirate.

So this was the evidence he placed on Mr Parker's desk three days later. The odd photo of Miss Parker's car entering and leaving her driveway, the lights in the house turning on and off. That satisfied the old man, and kept Broots safe for another day or two.

That is, until Broots noticed that there wasn't one clear image of Miss Parker herself in any of the photos, only evidence of her movements. He didn't mention it to Mr Parker, but it piqued his curiosity, and he began to delve a little closer, using the world of technology.

Whereupon he discovered some very clever traces of… he didn't know what. They were _very _clever. They could not be re-constructed to make anything. It could not even be determined from them what was there before them. They were simply slight anomalies in the binary code for things such as Miss Parker's online accounts, and her phone bills.

Broots wasn't sure exactly what she'd done, but he realised three things. She'd disappeared. She'd done it on purpose. And he was in serious trouble if Mr Parker found out.

He sat staring blankly at his monitor, twisting his fingers around one another, and eventually came to a conclusion. She'd said the holiday would only last two weeks. He only had to hide it for another eleven days. But hide it he would. Not a soul would know. Except for Sydney of course. That decided, Broots sighed in relief, wiped the traces of his searching of the computer, and went back to his usual occupation- tracking Jarod.

**oo00OO00oo**

Jarod shut his laptop and stared blankly at the opposite wall for a few moments. She was gone, vanished, disappeared. A shiver ran down his spine, and he glanced behind himself, just to check that she wasn't actually standing behind him. How could she have dematerialised, just like that? No, it couldn't be true. That was it- he'd overlooked something.

He checked again.

She was definitely gone. Back to staring in disbelief at the wall. Then, as though he'd been hit by an electric prod, he jumped off the bed he was sitting on, moving fast as he packed his things and fled from his new motel. Behind him, crushed into tiny fragments, was the phone she'd rung two days ago, lying useless in the bin.

Jarod was two states away before he stopped to think and plan. His first instinct when something wasn't right was to run. He was good at running. It kept him safe… he corrected that in his mind- it had kept him safe up until now. There was no doubt in his mind that Miss Parker was hunting him. For some reason, she had decided that it was time to turn around the game of chasey they had played for five years. Jarod has always assumed that the Centre were already throwing everything they had at him. And now… suddenly, Miss Parker was solo, out in the field, and after him. Which meant that all the prior rules were off. So much for a holiday.

So, he reasoned, she'll be trying to anticipate what I'm doing. And what my first instinct was, was to run. So, no more blind running. His brilliant intellect was the one thing that the Centre couldn't match him in. That was his advantage, now that Miss Parker was chasing him using a method he himself had admitted as being 'more efficient.'

Having decided all this, Jarod got down to the serious planning. There was nothing wrong with running; he'd just have to do it carefully. The other option was to go to ground, which he quickly discarded, as it often left no quick escape routes.

Since she'd be trying to anticipate his actions, he rolled a dice to pick his location, and then took a roundabout route, calling in a few favours and not so much as using public transport.

By the time he had made three such moves, he was feeling slightly safer. Miss Parker had not caught up with him once and he decided he had panicked just a bit too fast. Having hardly seen daylight in three days, and since he was down in the warm south, he thought maybe it was time to go out and catch some local life. Blending in with a crowd, rather than sitting cooped in his hotel room was actually safer anyway.

Twilight was falling as Jarod wandered along the beach front, smiling at all the teenagers, drinking, dancing, living and having fun. A massive bonfire had been lit further down the beach, and silhouetted figures danced around it to the music of a percussion band, provided by a foursome of friends, that laughed as they watched the dancers. Jarod meandered that way, standing with the rest of the crowd that watched the dancing. It was clearly school holidays or something, but the crowds still contained all ages of people. Someone dragged an esky up to the watchers, and the pretender handed him a fiver, receiving a beer in return.

The bonfire's flames licked the starry sky and the sea lapped the beach, as the many feet pounded across the warm sand. Jarod's eyes were caught by one scantily clad dancer. Her long brown hair was given fiery highlights by the flames as she swung her hips fluidly to the beat, gluing his eyes to her lithe form. He drained his beer, hardly taking his eyes off her. Enchanted, he was stepping into the circle to join her, when she tossed a look over her shoulder at him and he finally caught a glimpse of her face. His jaw dropped in shock. The look on Miss Parker's face was one of mischievous triumph.

Parker watched as Jarod turned and slipped away through the crowd, quickly disappearing in the darkness. She didn't bother to try and follow him. His expression had been priceless. This was going to be fun.

**oo00OO00oo**

Jarod didn't stop this time. His life became a series of dingy hotels, and spare bedrooms of old friend's houses. When, five days later, his new mobile phone rang, it took no effort to determine who it was. And yet, despite his better judgement, he answered it, feeling butterflies stir in the pit of his stomach.

'I've discovered an interesting fact about seals.'

'What might that be Miss Parker?'

'As a fish swims through the water, it leaves a trail of electromagnetic disturbance behind it that is clearer the harder it swims. Seals can track this trail, and when a fish realises that it has a seal closing in on it, the harder it swims to get away, the more it tightens its own noose.'

'I see you're putting your holiday to good use. Did we get that one from the discovery channel?' Jarod couldn't help the patronising tone he adopted. Miss Parker's sudden prowess in getting his phone number (and appearing in front of him) was unnerving.

'Whatever you want to think labrat. Oh, and how's the weather in Michigan?' There was a click as she hung up. Jarod's breathing escalated. She was good. She was too good. At this rate, she'd have him in a day.

It was time to put to use the only other thing that the Centre couldn't emulate, other than his intellect. He could disappear completely with a pretend. There was no way she could hunt Jarod if he wasn't Jarod any more.

Thinking carefully about the ways she could possibly have traced him, he dismantled his new phone and flushed the pieces down the toilet before packing his meagre belongings once more. This time, however, he didn't flee the hotel room immediately. He waited a good two hours, in case she was watching out front, then slipped discretely out the kitchen entrance, dressed as a waiter.

From there, Jarod went into a pretend as a plain clothes policeman- a job with no uniform, that could allow him to blend in anywhere, at the same time as keeping him in thick crowds, should he so wish. It was the first time ever he hadn't used the first name 'Jarod' in a pretend. He bought a new phone, but carefully protected it, fixing it so his new number didn't even appear to the phone company.

After the second day, he was starting to feel safe again. He worked at his new job, not being too brilliant, but no being too slow. He didn't use anything of electronic origin, and kept a cap on at all times to avoid his face being seen from satellite photos. He has changed every single article of clothing and immersed himself in water for half an hour to rid himself of any possible bugs planted on him. There was simply no way she could have followed him.

And then…

He was walking on the way to check up on a police snitch when his phone started to ring. 'No, no, no' moaned Jarod quietly. Stepping out of the flow of people, he pulled it out of his pocket and answered it.

'Miss Parker' he greeted her before she could say anything. 'No' replied a confused voice, 'this is sergeant Munroe. Are you feeling alright detective?'

'Yes, fine, sorry.' Jarod had to work hard to hide the relief from his voice. He had forgotten that he had given commanding officer his number. 'Right. I was just ringing to remind you about the Turon case'

'Yes sir.' Replied Jarod, knowing nothing else needed to be said. The officer hung up and Jarod replaced his phone, feeling slightly foolish for being so paranoid. He had made very sure that Miss Parker couldn't follow him, so why was he expecting her around every corner?

He continued on the way to where the snitch liked to do business, feeling nervy, but hiding it well. Turning down an alley and leaving the flow of the side walk, he pushed through a dilapidated fence, and stepped toward the mock counter that had been set up, over which Jimmy the snitch traded all sorts of illegal goods, and peddled information to anyone that paid him enough or threatened him even more than that.

'How's life been Jimmy…' Jarod's challenge started off loud and confident, then trailed off to nothing as he saw that Miss Parker was leaning on one of the alley walls, her gun held casually to the small and dirty head of Jimmy to keep him silent. The snitch shot Jarod an apologetically terrified look.

'His life isn't so good, but yours is about to be infinitely worse.' Her voice was silken, smug, knowing she had him.

Jarod fell back a step, stomach coiling in fear, and mind working furiously, but all he said was; 'Come on Miss Parker. I saved your life last week. Besides, I thought you were meant to be on holiday.' His tone was almost pleading.

'And I thought you were a genius.' Jarod realised that any sort of appeal to her better nature wouldn't get very far at the moment. She was still holding a gun to Jimmy's head, keeping him firmly rooted both in himself and to the spot. Jarod's pretend didn't care if the weaselly little snitch got shot, but Jarod cared. So he stayed put, and proceeded warily.

'Apparently not. How did you find me?' Jarod knew he shouldn't ask, as it betrayed weakness, but he couldn't stand it anymore.

'Jarod, you should know that the best hunter of all doesn't chase or track. The best hunter waits.'

'Because they know where the prey will be?' Asked the pretender meekly.

'Always' replied Miss Parker, her smile meaning danger to somebody.

'So, there's not much point in me running, is there then?' Stated Jarod, testing the waters.

Parker shook her head, smiling sweetly.

* * *

TBC… 


	2. Honey, I'm home

Chapter Two

Author's note: Um, yes, late. I'm claiming mid-year exams, and scrupoulously quick updating on my last story against that one. Also, I love my reviewers very much. Although, thanks to the new story hit counter, I know that about half a percent of the people reading the story are reviewing the story. 'cough cough'

**bloodymary2: **Writers like beggars? But they harrass you and ask you for money. Oh... you mean the kind that harras you for updates. Well, yes.

**pretender fan: **Sigh, what will I do with you? Grin.

**Momo20**: Well, we can't all be american (thankfully)

**Angus Hardie**: She might, she might not. Cue evil cackle from the author.

**Bucky**: It was the please that did it for me. Here you go.

**Rev2004**: 'Hey... you updated' What's that supposed to mean? Anyway, yes, there will be a twist. Or maybe there won't be, and that will be the twist. Twisted minds, twisted childhoods... Some more manic cackling. Ah... Enjoy.

* * *

Mr Parker opened the door in his office, walking without needing to look after years of taking the same path. Coffee held in one hand, newspaper in the other, it wasn't until he glanced up to check for fresh papers on his desk that he realised there was another person in his room. 

When he realised who it was, he jumped, spilling hot coffee on his hand.

'Ah! What the hell?' Swearing, he threw the newspaper on the floor, put the coffee on the desk, wiped his hand on his expensive suit, and drew the small gun that he kept in a holster inside his jacket.

Jarod looked down the shaking barrel of the gun and raised both hands, not making any sudden movements and trying to appear non-threatening.

'What do you want?' Demanded Mr Parker, badly shaken at the appearance of the Centre's greatest prize in his office. It was Monday morning, and not, he felt, a fair time to play tricks on an old man.

'I give up.' Offered Jarod helpfully.

'What?' Stuttered the chairman.

'I'm giving myself in. I'll do whatever you want.'

All Mr Parker could do for a couple of moments was blink stupidly at the man in the black leather jacket. He had not got to be the head of the Centre for nothing though, and he quickly recovered enough to hit the intercom on his desk, not taking his eyes off the pretender. 'Yes sir?' came the voice of his secretary.

'Order two sweepers up here please.'

Jarod smiled at him encouragingly as they waited for them to arrive. He made no fuss as he was escorted down to the sub levels and was made secure. Alerting Sydney as to the pretender's return, Mr Parker finally had time to contemplate the meaning behind this sudden and compliant re-appearance. Miss Parker was due back from her holiday in five days, and the old man strongly suspected that his daughter had something to do with this. It was just the exact connection that eluded him. He returned to his office to deal with the paperwork that was no doubt even now piling up, but he was frowning in thought.

**oo00OO00oo**

Five days later, Jarod had performed several profitable simulations, and sudden disasters were failing to occur. He worked calmly with Sydney, doing whatever was asked of him. He had bought the DSA's in with him, all present and accounted for and Mr Parker was giving himself ulcers trying to work out just what exactly the pretender was playing at. That subject, however, was the only thing Jarod was not being open and helpful about. Sydney was quiet and closed up as he assisted Jarod with the sims. The only thing he knew that Mr Parker didn't was what Broots had told him, but that didn't help him draw any conclusions. That, and that Jarod was having screaming nightmares routinely every night.

Sydney mulled over this puzzle, trying to fit the pieces together, even as he explained the next sim to Jarod.

'You need to be careful with this one Jarod. I've got Broots here so he can monitor your heart rate and blood pressure whilst we do the sim- if you get into too much trouble, we're ending it.'

'You worry too much Sydney.'

'Indulge me.'

Jarod sighed, but with a smile playing about his lips, and obligingly held his hand out so Broots could slip the finger clip on that would do the actual monitoring. The monitor display instantly lit up with a steady heart beat of 60 and a blood pressure of 120 over 90.

'You've kept in shape' commented Sydney, as he began to set up the sim side of things.

'I did a lot of running' replied Jarod amiably. Sydney ignored the good-natured jibe at the Centre, not yet sure how exactly he should take Jarod's sudden reappearance and compliance.

'If your heart rate doubles from that, we'll stop the sim. OK…' Sydney paused, giving his protégé time to mentally change track. Jarod had already been briefed on the sim, and would complete it with minimum prompting.

'Who is Peter Wallace?' Asked Sydney

'He ran a training school for freedom fighters in northern Europe.' Jarod's voice had become emotionless, and his face was blank save for faint indications of deep thought.

'Why?'

'Wife and kids, easy lifestyle, he was bored, he didn't see how his life was significant.'

'Is it religion based?'

'On the surface. He needed a reason, but even radical Islam holds the lives of children to be sacred. He doesn't follow that precept, he's just using religion for a cover.'

'What is the real reason?' Sydney circled in on the persona they wanted Jarod to take, making him start to think more deeply about motives and personality. Jarod paused, analysing and drawing in the relevant information.

'He wanted purpose, and was frustrated, that he couldn't simply believe in a god to find purpose. He used the cause, but not the substance.'

'What's he planning to give him purpose Jarod?'

'He…' Another pause, and pain flickered across Jarod's formerly blank features.

'Heart rate is 80' called out Broots. Sydney nodded to him. 'He what Jarod?'

'He doesn't want to simply bomb, it's too clichéd. He wants to be known, he wants to have purpose. He read a book once, where an retreating army poisoned all the wells by throwing cow carcasses in, so when the villagers returned, the army had still won.'

'Is he going to poison the water source Jarod?'

'Heart rate is 85.'

'He's going to poison everything.'

'How?'

'Heart rate is 90.'

'Old missiles, old warheads. Material enough, for a dirty bomb, exploded over Moscow. Chernobyl, with children, with a whole city. They won't die straight away Sydney. Radiation sickness at the quickest will be a couple of hours. Then the cancers, mutations, the sterilisation of people and soil.' Agitation was thick in his voice.

'When Jarod?'

'Soon. Safer to do it soon. Sooner started, the sooner the whole world will know. Then they'll know his devotion. No one that doesn't believe would do something like that in the name of Allah.'

'Where?'

Jarod looked dully at the map of the former USSR that was being projected across one wall. Broots watched the heart monitor worriedly.

'Several possible locations that are tactically useful. Here, here, here, or here.'

'Which one?'

'None of them. He's not sane like that. Here.' Jarod pointed to a point, and Sydney, having derived all the required information, quickly ended the sim, bringing the lights up to full and snapping Jarod out of it. The pretender's heart rate began to drop again, and he visibly calmed.

'Thankyou Jarod. We'll be able to stop him now.'

Jarod snorted derisively, the first time he had shown any real cynicism towards the Centre since he had come back in. 'Tell them to price that information to sell- haggling will result in the worst nuclear disaster since Hiroshima.'

'I will.' Sydney assured him, producing the DSA of the simulation and turning to head out the door, on the way to present it to Mr Parker. He nearly ran head on into Miss Parker, who had been leaning in the doorway, watching the end of the sim.

'Miss Parker! How was your holiday?'

'Excellent. Did you miss me?' She didn't so much as glance at Jarod, whose eyes were glued to the floor.

'I expect we'll have to get used to it. Where are you going now?'

'I'm moving back up to corporate. Daddy made a most flattering job offer, so I decided to stay with the Centre.'

Sydney glanced from Miss Parker to the pretender, and narrowed his eyes almost imperceptibly. That Miss Parker hadn't commented that Jarod was suddenly sitting calmly back in the Centre only underlined her involvement in this whole thing. Broots too was looking from Jarod to Miss Parker, then back to the heart monitor, his expression anxious, although he wasn't contemplating anything to do with plots.

Miss Parker didn't comment on the unspoken questions hanging in the air, just nodded once to her two ex-colleagues and turned and left the room that she had never really entered. Sydney watched her leave, then noticed the heart monitor, which Broots was now checking for malfunction. It read 160 beats per minute, although it was now slowing once more. Jarod was still looking at the floor, with his expression something akin to nervous fear. Sydney stowed the issue away as just one more Centre strangeness that needed to be untangled. The difference with this one was that two people very dear to him seemed to be perpetrating it, and he just hoped they had more reason for it than Peter Wallace had for his planned attack.

TBC…(and the next chapter gets really fun, so I won't take as long to update)


	3. Revelations

Chapter Three

**imag1ne** intrigued huh? That's intriguing.

**bloodymary2**: Your review made me vewy vewy happy, so thankyou! You're saying just the right things that I've been aiming for people to say, and it made me squeal like a teenage school-girl. Whenever I write stories, I'm always aiming for unpredictability, so it's nice to know I'm at least halfway there. :D

**Momo20**: French Canadian, or just French French. Neither is American. Thankyou for your review, you speak excellent english, if it is your second language.

**Annette**: Don't ask me. Tissues maybe?

**pretender fan: **Wink wink indeed.

**Rev2004: **Thankyou, oh Rev who is always the first to review ;)

* * *

'Jarod.' 

'Mmpf'

'Jarod, wake up.' Sydney waited a moment longer until he could see a pair of brown eyes blinking groggily at him, reflecting the light shining into the dark room from the open doorway that he stood in.

'There's been an incident up in corporate. Someone's destroyed a major data bank.'

'Destroyed? They didn't steal anything?'

'As far as the technicians can work out, they just surged the power, blowing all the memory circuits.'

'Odd.' Jarod sat up in his bed and ran a hand through his sleep tousled hair. 'Do they want me to take a look at it?'

'They want you to sim it.'

'Now? What time is it?'

'The sooner you tell them who it was, the sooner they can start chasing them.'

'Alright.' Jarod rubbed his eyes with one hand and stumbled out of bed, looking tired and haggard. Sydney backed out of the room and closed the door so he could dress, then walked with him to one of the sim labs. Jarod eyed the folder that sat on one of the tables.

'Can't you just take me up and let me see the scene of the crime? If they're going for speed…'

Sydney paused for a moment, and then gave a brief 'wait here.'

Jarod waited. After a moment, Sydney re-entered, presumably having just talked to a higher-up, and nodded.

Up in the tower, the room where the data banks were stored was cleared of techs so the pretender could examine the scene. The old psychiatrist waited patiently to one side whilst Jarod ghosted about the room, looking at everything, murmuring quietly to himself, occasionally measuring something roughly with one hand. He could see what had happened clearly in his mind.

_Parker entered the room and flicked the lights on with her right hand, a small electronic device held in her left. Acting as though she had every right to be there, she sauntered casually over to the second bank of hard-drives and read down the labels until she found the one she wanted. A wicked smile on her face, she clipped the device into one of the multitude of blue wires that ran from place to place. It gave a beep and she pressed a few buttons._

_Standing, she surveyed the room, sashayed over to data bank three, yanked two separate wires out of their sockets and connected them. There was sizzling sound, and small puffs of smoke emanated from various points in the bank of machines as plastic melted. _

Jarod suppressed his smile, as, in his mind's eye, Parker surveyed the damage.

'_Oops.' She said, looking somewhat smug, before sauntering back out, leaving behind her one smoking data bank, and a very small device, that no one would think to look for._

To Sydney, he said; 'I see it.'

'How did they get in?' Asked Sydney. Silently, Jarod exited the room, then re-entered through the door, hand going over to the light switch to mime flicking it on. As he did so, he covertly wiped of the fingerprint that she had left there. Sydney watched as Jarod looked cautiously about the room, shutting the door carefully behind himself and jumping at the sound as the latch clicked into place.

Carefully, slowly, the pretender crept along the four rows of data banks, as though examining the labels on each one. When he reached three, he stopped, and walked down the row, throwing a glance behind himself. Clearly nervous, he sought out the wires he needed, miming levering them carefully out of their sockets one by one. He finished by indicating where the two wires had been crossed, thus causing the power surge that destroyed the memory circuits.

'Thankyou Jarod. What can you tell me about who did it?'

'A technician, someone who knows how to cause a surge like this, but doesn't work in this room, because he didn't know just what he wanted. There was possibly something on that drive that incriminated him in something. He didn't mean to short the whole data bank, he was just going for this drive- he didn't know that there was no fuses between the drives. This drive held security camera recording, including the one from this room.

The damage was intended but the extent was accidental. If you don't want something like this to happen again, install fuses between separate drives, and put a camera in this room that routes to a source outside of this room.'

'Is that all?'

'All that I can see.'

'OK. I'll take you back to bed now.'

Jarod nodded, and allowed himself to be escorted out of the room, trying very hard not to glance at where he knew a small device to be secreted in the masses of wires and drives.

**oo00OO00oo**

_Two Weeks Ago_

Parker listened to a set of foot steps coming down the alley, feeling slightly relieved. Jimmy the snitch needed soaking in a bath of antiseptic and detergent for about a week, before being rinsed off with a fireman's hose. Thankfully, he seemed reasonably cooperative. At least, he didn't try to yell out and warn Jarod, who was now pushing through a hole in an old fence. He took two steps towards them, calling outhis challenge, before he realised that she was standing, waiting for him. His face registered pure panic for a moment, before he suppressed it with a clear effort.

'His life isn't so good, but yours is about to be infinitely worse.' She allowed all the satisfaction of finally being allowed to catch him to rise in her voice.

Jarod fell back a step, but went no further, held by the threat of damage to an innocent person. He was clearly thinking hard.

'Come on Miss Parker. I saved your life last week. Besides, I thought you were meant to be on holiday.' He was confused as to why she was doing this, and in manifested itself in his pleading tone.

'And I thought you were a genius.' She knocked back his attempt to connect with her, still holding a gun to Jimmy's head to remind him that he was Jarod, not some other pretend who might do something rash that would end up with him having the upper hand.

'Apparently not. How did you find me?' Jarod had dropped the pleading tone, although his blunt question betrayed his rampant curiosity.

'Jarod, you should know that the best hunter of all doesn't chase or track. The best hunter waits.' She dropped the clue, seeing how long it would take him to realise how she had found him.

'Because they know where the prey will be?' Asked the pretender meekly. He didn't understand, but his guess was still eerily accurate.

'Always' replied Miss Parker, smiling dangerously.

'So, there's not much point in me running, is there then?'

Parker shook her head, anticipation singing in her veins at the impending revelation she would dump on him. She drew back the gun from its unwavering aim on Jimmy's head, turning it so Jarod could see that the safety had been on the whole time. His wary demeanour didn't change as he now tried to figure out just what she was playing at. He cocked a questioning eyebrow at her as Jimmy scrambled up and dashed away from the both, quickly disappearing up the alley way. They both ignored him.

'The whole run/chase thing is getting a little old. I've got a better idea.'

'What might that be?' She had just changed not just the rules, but the whole game, and Jarod was treading carefully until he worked it out. He didn't run though, both because she had put the gun away, and because she had proven that he wouldn't get very far if she didn't want him to.

'Well, having nearly died many a time because of the people I work for, I've decided I don't like them very much.'

'Is that so?' Asked Jarod, the beginning of a smile playing about his lips. He could see where this was leading now.

'It is. And I figure, just quitting won't get me very far. So I was thinking I'd make sure there was no job left to quit from.'

'And how do you propose to do that?' Jarod's smile became a full blown grin, one that was mirrored on Parker's face as she saw the full realisation hit him.

'I need you to help me work out the details' she said after a moment.

'It's what I do best. But you have to tell me one thing first…'

'Uh uh. A magician never reveals her secrets.' Parker anticipated perfectly what he had been about to ask, and was rewarded with a pout. 'Oh, stop sulking. Come on, we'll start at my place.'

She didn't wait for a response, just turned and sauntered past him, ducking neatly through the hole in the fence. When she heard his footstep follow her after a moment, she finally allowed the triumphant smile to her face, having kept the upper hand throughout the encounter.

**oo00OO00oo**

_The present_

Jarod snuck glances both ways along the dim corridor to determine that no one was watching as he slipped through an inconspicuous doorway, into a dim, medium sized janitor's closet. A few times, footsteps passed in the corridor outside, but none slowed, and Jarod waited. The Centre was huge- actually escaping was no easy matter, but he wasn't trying to escape. Hiding, on the other hand, for someone that knew the premises like he did, was as easy as breathing. It was a huge building, and searching it all could take up to two days- assuming the object of the search did not move.

Finally what he had been waiting for appeared. The door opened and Miss Parker slipped in to join him, waiting a moment whilst her eyes adjusted, then pin-pointing Jarod in the semi-darkness. He was leaning back against a wall, arms crossed over his chest and an amused look on his face.

'What are you doing?' she hissed at him. He regarded her benignly for a moment, making sure she knew he wouldn't answer her question before speaking.

'The look you've been carrying around is unnecessary- you're a better actor than that.'

'What look?' Asked Parker innocently, deciding that if he wasn't going to respond to her scolding then there were better ways to manipulate him.

'Ugh. You know what I mean.'

'I might. I still don't see why you mind though. It's working isn't it?'

'It is. But it is perfectly obvious to everyone that you're involved somehow.'

'But they can't prove it.'

'Since when does the Centre care about proving guilt before it deals permanently with people?'

'Jarod?'

'Hmm?'

She closed the distance between then and kissed him thoroughly. 'Chill, OK?'

'You've got a persuasive argument.' He grinned down at her, pleased enough with the conclusion of their squabbling that he was willing to let it go. 'Now you've got the look.' Pointed out Parker evilly. Jarod raised an eyebrow at her questioningly. Obligingly she extrapolated.

'I'd call it a sort of smug, 'I know something you don't/I've got something you haven't' look.'

'Uh huh. Now, beloved of Satan, unfortunately, we can't stay here all day, as much as I would like to.'

Parker gave him a mock pout. 'Why not?'

'We've got the subversion of the Centre to finish, remember?'

'Oh, that. Can't we do it later?'

Jarod bit his bottom lip to keep from chuckling at her disgruntled tone, indulged in a longer and more heated, parting kiss, then pushed her back out into the corridor from the janitor's closet that they had met in.

The little meeting hadn't been strictly necessary for the completion of their plan, but it had answered one very important question for him. He hadn't told her that he would be briefly escaping his handlers to meet her in the broom closet just now- she had tracked him down herself. That meant Parker hadn't planted a bug on him, or even physically tracked him across the country. It meant she had simply known where he was. It meant she had some sort of psychic radar on him.

Satisfied at having determined this, Jarod counted to five hundred and then stepped out to meet the sweeper teams that were combing the Centre building looking for him. As the first blatant contradiction to the complete compliance he had been showing, his brief disappearance would probably result in much harsher measures of restraint. He didn't mind though; it had been worth it. Besides, he had his own personal God watching from on high. Miss Parker in Corporate would make sure that nothing too terrible happened to him, and therein lay the power of their plan- one above, one below, and they had all of the Centre covered. The evil corporation didn't know it yet, but it was completely at their mercy.

TBC…Erm... due to some... 'issues'... in production, the next chapter might be a while. Sorrysorrysorrypleasedon'thurtme?)


	4. Talking

Chapter Four

**Gemini-M**: I'm also glad that you finally had time to read my story. You had me worried- you'd disappeared! Anway, your 'pretty please' prompted me into action. I hope you like this chapter.

**bloodymary2**: your review actually had me squealing in joy- thankyou so very much. I love it when people tell me they have no idea what's coming. Now I really hope this lives up to your expectations.

**HuntingPeace** Thankyou.

**Kendel17** Wow! Ten million metaphorical dollars? Just what I've always wanted. Of course I'll update. (ps. I understand the feeling of extreme sadness and desperation I feel when I hear a story I really like is going to take a while, I just never thought that anyone could feel that way about my humble little drabble. So thanks ;) )

**Daisyz**: I hope unpredicatable in a good way...?

**Rev2004**: I will. At least, I'll try to.

* * *

'Hey Sydney?' Broots looked up from where he had been tapping away at the computer, trying to dredge up some sort of clue on the whereabouts of Jarod. After he had gone missing for a few hours, he had been moved to a much more secure space, and yet had still disappeared without a trace, only four days later. One day after that, Miss Parker had not come into work, and sweepers had gone to her house only to find that she had packed her bags and disappeared. 

'What is it Broots?'

'Do you think maybe they're together?'

Sydney glanced at the ever-present cameras, warning the tech not to say anything too incriminating, before he answered. 'They both went missing within a day of each other. It does seem somewhat coincidental.'

'But when she came in here whilst Jarod was doing the Wallace sim… his heart rate soared. He's terrified of her.'

Sydney gave the tech a steady stare. 'Fear isn't the only thing that will cause elevated heart rate Broots.'

Broots thought about that for a moment, then blinked a couple of times, and shook his head hard, as though clearing an uncomfortable mental image. He shot Sydney a pleading look, and the shrink shrugged in response.

'What I'd be more interested to know is what they're planning.'

'Huh?'

'It was very dangerous for Jarod to come in here, let alone for both of them. Even though Raines is out of the picture, her father could still do them serious harm, not to mention Lyle who's been lurking around. They wouldn't have done it without a reason.'

'So… what was their reason?'

On cue, Broots screen went blank. He jumped, then realised it was just the screen saver coming on. He hit the spacebar to clear it, then jumped again. Pasted across his screen in red letters was a message. Sydney leaned over his shoulder, reading with interest.

_We apologise for the inconvenience_

Underneath it said:

_Deleting C/…_

Beyond the C/ was a blur, as the filenames flashed past on their way to oblivion.

'Nooooo' groaned Broots, watching years of work flash before his eyes. Sydney had a faint smile on his face. He hadn't seen Jarod get near this computer once, yet it was an offline desktop- there was no way in externally. However annoyed he was at his protégé for endangering both himself and Miss Parker, he couldn't help feeling a slight twinge of pride at his abilities.

Broots wasn't nearly so happy. The tech had slumped in his chair and letting out small whimpering sounds as he watched the screen. Sydney patted his shoulder in a vaguely comforting manner.

**oo00OO00oo**

The two causes of Broots' anguish were currently watching the chaos they had created, from a hotel 500 miles away. Well, Parker was watching it, via the feed from the security cameras, hooked in to Jarod's laptop. There was a knock on the door to the room and she stood briefly to let the pretender in, before resettling on the couch in front of the laptop that was set up on the coffee table.

Jarod kicked the door shut behind himself, and sat next to Parker, wordlessly handing her one of the cups of steaming coffee that he held. They sipped and watched in silence for a while. The scenes that the feed was showing as it randomly scrolled through the sub-level cameras were better than anything that could be dreamed up in the head of a ratings-desperate television executive for the next reality TV hit.

'Poor Broots' commented Jarod after a little while.

'Yeah, this is going to be hard on gadget boy. Frankly though, it serves him right for trying to spy on me whilst I was on holiday.'

'He what?' Jarod's tone was outraged.

'It was really Daddy that made him do it, but that still doesn't mean he's going to get any slack over it.' Parker smiled wolfishly as the footage showed the look of absolute despair on Broots' face as his computer was wiped by a virus Jarod had personally programmed and loaded.

'That's hardly fair. It's wasn't really his fault, and besides, he didn't tell your father that you'd disappeared.'

'How do you know?'

'Because I found out that someone else was using the satellite cameras when I hacked in myself, but I couldn't find out who. So I figured whoever was doing it had discovered the same thing as I had. Despite that, your father never mobilised any sort of a team to track you down, and never asked you about it. Meaning he didn't know.'

'Huh.' Stated Parker, as a, non-committal response.

Having seen the majority of the fireworks down in the sim labs, Jarod reached out with his non-coffee arm and switched the camera feed up into the tower. There wasn't as thorough camera coverage in the more privileged half of the Centre, but Parker had taken care of that. Jarod wondered absently how she'd had any time to get any cover work done with all the cameras that she had planted.

A few people had severe reactions like Broots. Some tried things like switching off the power the moment they realised what was happening. Some began running around like headless chickens. None of it helped. The chairman knew within thirty seconds. His reaction was interesting. He simply sighed once then buried his face in his hands for a good ten seconds. Then he looked up at the fidgeting tech that had bought him the news and went into damage control. That didn't help either. By the evening, there was not one scrap of binary code on anything Centre related.

Parker and Jarod didn't watch to that point though. They had gotten distracted.

By each other.

**oo00OO00oo**

_A few months later, at the Centre building in Delaware_

A zephyr of stale air stirred a few scraps of paper, lifting and twirling them a short distance down the corridor then dropping them in a scattered wave across the blackened tile floor.

The fire that had ripped through the Centre building had been fast and enormously destructive, leaving just enough time for complete evacuation and little else. Unfortunately, in the confusion and chaos, a few of the saner ex-inmates had organised an escape, and now most of the Centre's projects were scattered in hiding across the country, much like the scraps of paper that were now twitched a little further across the floor by the breeze, before stilling once more.

The fire had been one of the final blows- caused by wiring down in the sublevels that had apparently had the insulation nibbled away by the resident rats. At least, that was the story. There hadn't really been enough evidence left to confirm anything more. Now the Centre was a rapidly fading ghost. Removed electronically, then cauterised physically, all investors were well and truly heading for the hills, and most of the old employees were scanning the jobs sections in various newspapers.

'Wanted. A go-getting individual with good secret keeping skills, and a dedication to not getting shot.'

The few really big fish had presented a brief problem. The Centre had been removed in the eyes of the general populace, where it had never really existed in the first place. In the eyes of the government, and a few large corporations however, the Centre, their former source of hefty bribes, had merely fallen on hard times. With adequate craftiness on behalf of certain tower individuals, the stupid goons in charge of the country would have eventually helped them to re-establish, starting the same cycle of evil over again.

So Mr Parker caught a mysterious, incurable disease. Lyle crashed his car, and died in the ambulance on the way to hospital. Raines' oxygen tank malfunctioned, asphyxiating the emphysemic in his sleep. These were harsh but necessary final measures to ensure that no fiery bird rose from the ashes of otherwise complete destruction.

_And as for the two instruments of this coup…_

'I'm worried about you and her Jarod.'

'Why's that Sydney? We're certainly not.' Jarod grinned fondly as he watched his wife take out the heart and head of the paper target. He and his old mentor were sitting in the observation gallery that looked on to the indoor shooting range, watching as Miss Parker showed Broots how to shoot. It was his final penance for having spied on her all those months ago, and he was trying to make the best on it, nodding nervously as she gave him a few last instructions and handed him the gun.

'You never talk.' Commented Sydney. 'A lack of communication is almost always the root cause of marriage breakdown.'

'We don't talk. That doesn't mean we don't communicate.' Jarod didn't take his eyes of the shooting range as he spoke. Broots' first shot missed the target entirely.

'How so?' Asked Sydney, mildly curious.

'Isn't something like 80 percent of communication non-verbal anyway?' Sydney jumped slightly as Miss Parker spoke from behind him, having left Broots to practise his aim.

'Hello Parker. We were just talking about you.' Sydney smiled benignly at her but Jarod didn't miss the implication. Sydney wasn't prepared to drop the matter just yet, and wanted to draw Parker into the conversation.

'I know.' Replied Parker, sauntering around the seats where the two men sat, and sinking sideways onto Jarod's lap, so she was facing Sydney. Jarod put his arms around her waist, grinning. The two performed displays like this all the time now, but it did not alleviate the psychiatrist's nagging worry that they hardly ever spoke to each other.

'We really are honestly fine Syd.' Commented Parker, covering one of Jarod's hands with her own, and turning her head to briefly gaze into his eyes. He looked back, completely captivated by her.

'You don't seem fine. Part of being a couple is talking; it doesn't matter what about. Just so long as you keep speaking to each other, you re-affirm the bonds between you.'

'You'd make a good marriage counsellor' pointed out Parker mildly. 'You're avoiding the point.' Stated Sydney, determined in this.

Jarod sighed in mock defeat. 'You'd better tell him dear.'

They shared another look, and this time Parker could resist dipping her head for a brief kiss. Sydney waited patiently until they were ready to deal with him.

'You spent most of your life researching twin bonds Syd, so it shouldn't seem so strange to you. Jarod and I grew up together; apart from Timmy, we were the only two people in each other's worlds. We were meant to be together, always have been. We love each other. Our non-verbal communication is more like 100 percent.'

'She really shocked me when she first proved that she always knew exactly where I was.' Reminisced Jarod fondly. Sydney looked from one to the other.

'So you're saying you've got some sort of twin-like bond between you two?'

'Yup. Only less…sibling-like. Otherwise I'm fairly sure all this would be illegal.'

'Hmm. It could be something to do with Parker actually being a twin. She lost her connection with her brother early and so reformed it with you.'

'Something like that.' Grinned Jarod, amused by Sydney's scientist instinct to immediately form hypotheses. Sydney shook his head, and returned to watching Broots attempt to hit the target.

_You'd better go rescue him. _Commented Jarod silently, and Parker nodded. She stepped off his lap and he couldn't resist smacking her bottom as she sauntered towards the door. The pretender swore he could have heard her give a very un-ice-queen-like squeak. He grinned again. Sydney kept his eyes on the range, pretending to ignore them both, but the old man smiled slightly even so.

The End

Author's note: I suppose now would be as good a time as any to announce my upcoming hiatus from the pretender fiction. I'll be back as soon as my two latest obsessions fade, although who knows when that'll be. I've done this before when the shiny bauble of Firefly caught my eye. Thanks for your patience all. TTFN.


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